


Sensitive

by AnnetheCatDetective



Series: On the Story [3]
Category: Transylvania 6-5000 (1985)
Genre: M/M, Puppy Play, flagrant abuse of erogenous zones, the actual puppy play happens in the next one but it's thought about a bit, two incredibly vanilla boys try to understand what a kink even is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-15
Updated: 2018-11-15
Packaged: 2019-08-24 03:49:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16632350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnetheCatDetective/pseuds/AnnetheCatDetective
Summary: Gil has some interesting weaknesses. It's not so much that Jack means to exploit them, but... what's he supposed to do, when faced with the way Gil reacts sometimes?





	Sensitive

**Author's Note:**

> Again, without my own computer, I am reduced to throwing this up having typed it directly into the field here, so... it is what it is, and I hope what it is is good.

    If Jack Harrison can be said to have a talent, where his personal life is concerned, that talent is his ability to completely avoid thinking about what he wants out of his personal life.

 

    Well, Gil. Always Gil. But it took him _years_ to admit that.

 

    As for specific things he likes doing with Gil, or to him? Well, it's not like they hadn't picked up ideas. Ideas he found himself backing off from in a hurry, unsure as to what to even do with them. 

 

    The dog thing... He feels like he could have figured his way around things if that girl hadn't gone and _said_ it like that. He'd taken it in stride because Gil had been so poleaxed by it, and one of them has to be able to handle things, one of them at a time has to just roll with it... Well, maybe, anyway. At least, whenever Gil falls apart, Jack feels a little more capable. Taking care of Gil is what he _does_ , how could he not keep control?

 

    But they haven't really explored it since, and he's not sure how to now, with this label on it.

 

    And it's not that it doesn't suit Gil, because of course it does, the man is a puppy. Sweet, devoted, adorable, ungainly but well-meaning, cuddly... playful, silly, loving, loyal... It's just that now it's not a weird feeling Jack has to find a name for, now it's a  _kink_ , and Jack isn't kinky.

 

    He's good at avoiding thinking about what he wants out of his personal life, but right now he's doing his best to focus. While Gil clacks away at the typewriter, making crap up to keep them employed, Jack is sitting at the other side of their desk, staring at notes for a story that's never going to get published anyway, and thinking about Gil.

 

    He doesn't want to dress him up with a leash and collar, he doesn't want... he doesn't want to watch him crawl around on his hands and knees, or anything weird. He wants to watch him get all flustered when he's called a good boy, he wants to pet at him a little now and then, and hand-feed him, and let it move him in ways that have nothing to do with sex. He wants to feel like he's doing a good job taking care of him, that's what he wants. That he could make up for the times he'd avoided his feelings, run the other way, the times he'd gotten Gil into trouble, even if he'd gotten him right back out. He wants to do right by him. He wants...

 

    He wants to keep Gil safe when he's soft and vulnerable and sweet. He wants to protect him and care for him. That's what the feeling is, that intense thing that had shot through his gut, the need to take good care of the man he thinks he owes some care to-- a man who needs it, honestly, and who deserves it. Gil deserves to be taken care of. Of course, he also wants to have sex with him, and often, but it's a separate thing. Maybe the two will get muddled sometimes, or maybe he'll find himself moving from one urge to the next, but they come from different places, he thinks. 

 

    He usually wants to have sex with Gil... he doesn't always find his mind wandering that direction while they're on the clock, but it's not exactly hard to turn his thoughts that way, either. He has an active libido and he has the man he loves sharing his bed and ninety percent of the showers he takes at least, it comes up. A lot. The only problem is that on a good night, Jack could be ready for round two in half an hour, and Gil can't stay awake after a good round one... and he's so cute when he's sleeping, too. If Jack is lucky, he can get that shift, from the burning desire for another go to the desire to keep Gil safe and cozy, looking at that face... Once in a while, he lies awake, masturbation futile when what he wants isn't to get off, but to be with Gil. Well, both. But his own hand feels a little inadequate when he's used to Gil's entire body pressed close, and slow, wet kisses, and hearing his name ringing from the rafters. 

 

    The dog thing, the puppy thing, the whatever-it-is pet thing... it does what the sight of Gil asleep does, lights that other fire in him, so that all he can think of is Gil's safety and his comfort. Jack just doesn't know how to reconcile that feeling with the idea of being kinky. He doesn't know how to reconcile himself with the idea of being kinky, when he rarely breaks from the routine of missionary position frottage. Nothing says 'I'm not kinky' like missionary... 

 

 _Gil_ isn't kinky. Jack knows that better than he knows anything about himself. Gil's wildest request thus far has been 'more hand-holding', Gil had nearly blushed himself to death just saying yes, Jack could kiss him after sucking him off and that would be okay. Gil just likes to be held, to be close, to be... soft. 

 

    "Hey, Jack?" Gil interrupts his thoughts. "Can you come look at this? There's something I just feel like I'm missing..."

 

    "Just a sec, I'll be there." He promises, running through the least sexy thoughts he can, before moving around to lean over Gil's shoulder and look at what he's read, one hand braced on the desk to bear some weight, the other touching Gil.

 

    That's not unusual-- he's usually touching Gil when they're close enough. If he's standing over Gil's shoulder to read over something, then he's usually got one hand clamped down on that shoulder, but he's stroked Gil's hair before, or his hand. Up and down his arm. He doesn't really think he's doing anything different until he feels Gil shiver, hears the way he whines out Jack's name.

 

    "What?" He asks, stroking a little more, noting for the first time that he's touching Gil's neck, making a lazy path between his shirt collar and just up behind his ear. 

 

    "Jack,  _please_..." Gil squirms. 

 

    "Oh, you don't like this?" He teases-- he can't help himself. He stops, sure, his hand hovering just away from Gil, but he teases, too, a little.

 

    "I didn't say  _that_." He whines, casting a  _look_ up at Jack, blue eyes wide, shining so appealingly... that little pout he sometimes gets when he's not sure if he's upset or only confused, but he knows all he has to do is put in a bid for Jack to make it all better... 

 

    "Well what are you saying?"

 

    "I do like it..." He pouts a little harder, though it falters and nearly turns to a smile when Jack strokes his thumb along Gil's lip instead. " _Jack_ , I wouldn't be sitting here turning you on if your father could walk in any minute."

 

    "Gil, you do nothing  _but_ sit there turning me on." Jack leers, making him groan into his hands and squirm a little more. "What's that?"

 

    "I said I need to be careful what I wish for... having all of you is a lot, you know."

 

    Jack laughs. "Too late to take it back now, I'm all yours. I'm never looking at anyone else again, for as long as I live. Scoot, switch chairs, I'll work on the article."

 

    "Thanks, Jack!" He bounces up to his feet, and after a moment of hesitation and a glance to the door, he throws his arms around Jack, nuzzling too-briefly into his cheek. Jack presses a hand to the small of his back, keeping him close. It's not force, just the merest suggestion of a touch, but Gil pulls back to look at him with wide, questioning eyes. 

 

    "Why don't you go and get yourself something to eat? Take a little walk. Get some coffee if you want it." He says, leaning in to nuzzle at Gil's cheek in return. "Take good care of yourself, huh?"

 

    "O-okay."

 

    "And Gil? I mean it. There's nobody else. Not ever again." He says, letting him go again, jerking his head towards the door. "You can take a look at the article once you've had a break and I've had a whack at it, see if it makes more sense to you then, what you can make out of my crap."

 

    "Okay. Thanks, Jack. I mean-- and I--" He stumbles over his words, then abandons them, flashing Jack the sweetest smile from the doorway before scurrying off. 

 

    When Gil returns, Jack hasn't made much progress. It's one of those stories they have to invent practically from whole cloth, and Gil might have a talent for that, but Jack doesn't. He has no stomach for it, either, but Gil's defended his continued employment often enough... there are times when it might still be worth it to make waves, and this isn't one of them, not really. 

 

    When Gil returns, he has a cup of coffee for Jack, too, and he runs a hand through his hair when he drops it off next to him, neatening up the curls Jack had tugged into disarray in frustration. 

 

    "We could knock off early..." He suggests. Jack looks at the clock. Not this early, but... early.

 

    "Sure. Give me a few more minutes and then you can look at what I wrote and... then we can get out of here." He nods, lifting the cup of coffee. "Thank you, sweetheart."

 

    Gil shrugs, ducking his head and grinning, face going all pink as if Jack didn't call him 'sweetheart' on a fairly regular basis. Then again, it's not as if Jack could ever get tired of watching Gil react... how flustered he gets sometimes, how much every little thing  _affects_ him. 

 

    Okay, so maybe he's not kinky, but Jack really likes _affecting_ Gil. He's so _expressive_ , he doesn't hold anything back, he never has, maybe he wouldn't know how... 

 

    As soon as they can knock off, Jack is ready-- and as soon as they're out of the building, he wraps his hand around the back of Gil's neck to steer him to the car. It's not just the stroking, even this has him shivery, has him casting uncertain but longing looks Jack's way. 

 

    He's beginning to think he was playing a more dangerous game than he'd thought, back when he'd played at strangling him... but then, they did a lot more roughhousing back when Jack could tell himself that was one of the more acceptable ways of touching Gil-- certainly the only acceptable way to get in that full-body contact he craved, if they were wrestling, or if they just happened to collapse together for a little while after wrestling. Not that they didn't still get that contact other ways, but Jack was so uneasy over it sometimes. 

 

    At every red light, he reaches over, giving Gil just a little touch here, a stroke there, until Gil whines the moment the light turns red instead of when Jack touches him, shifting around in the passenger's seat. 

 

    Jack could touch his neck in public. A firm hand to guide him, or a careless brush of fingers under the guise of fixing his collar or his hair? No one would think it strange-- not with him and Gil, anyway. He could do this to him in a crowded restaurant, at a party, could tease him to distraction in the library searching through microfilm archives together... Not that he would, if Gil really didn't want him to, it's just that he could. And the thing is, Gil is funny about these things. Because Jack could put a hand on his thigh--  _high_ on his thigh-- right under the table at a formal luncheon with Gil's parents, and Gil wouldn't pause between bites. There would be no whining, squirming, blushing, begging for mercy, he'd go right on with his little tiny sandwiches and weird gelatin-based salads like Jack had done nothing more intimate than pat his shoulder. But this... this and Gil is a puddle, and Jack wants...

 

    Jack doesn't know what he wants.

 

    Jack wants to keep right on melting him. 

 

    Everything else... everything else can wait. He can unravel what the rest all means another time, can ask Gil how he feels about sometimes being a puppy in some limited kind of a way, can call him a good boy and feed him and pet at him and... and untangle what he feels, and learn how Gil feels. For now, for once, he knows exactly what he wants and he thinks he knows exactly what he likes about it. 

 

    It all feels clearer, the more he touches Gil, the more he feels him shiver and sigh. And the state he's in when Jack gets him home, oh, it's beautiful... Gil practically panting for him as he escorts him up to their apartment, throwing himself down on the bed the moment he's kicked his shoes off, eyes dark with desire... 

 

    Jack takes a little more time than he strictly needs to, standing at the foot of the bed and stripping out of his clothes, watching the way Gil watches him, the way his eyes follow that path down, so that he can almost feel his gaze like a touch, feather light but real, from his face down to his chest, down to his slowly-hardening cock. 

 

    "I've always thought... you were the most beautiful man I've ever seen." Gil sighs, attention flickering between several points of interest before settling back on Jack's face, as he finally approaches him on the bed. "Can I say that? Beautiful?"

 

    "Sure." Jack smiles, pushing Gil's sweater up, feeling the way his muscles twitch and jump under his touch. Gets his shirt unbuttoned and watches the way he reacts to light touches, firmer ones. The way the color rises up to the surface in rosy patches against the pale, like a damask rose. He'd felt so self-conscious saying that, had felt his own face heat-- not that it shows up much on him-- but Gil had thrown himself at him and kissed him, over and over, had confessed he felt so awkward over it, the bright spots of color and the places where there was none, envied the fact that Jack just had a fairly even sort of a glow. Jack doesn't think he envies Gil, so much as he just likes looking at him, likes how obvious enjoyment is on him, arousal. 

 

    He undresses him, lowers himself down to the right spot, the right angle, their bodies fitting like they were crafted to lock together like puzzle pieces, and he kisses Gil, soft at first, their fingers lacing together, their breaths in sync. 

 

    "Sweetheart..." He nips at his lip, then his earlobe, feels him shiver. Licks a stripe up his neck and gets a noise out of him he usually doesn't get until Gil is on the verge of coming...  "Oh, honey, oh, baby... oh,  _Gil_ , Gil, Gil, Gil,  _Gil_." 

 

    Gil rocks up into him, speeding up their usual rhythm, clinging and keening and absolutely perfect.  _Wild_.

 

    He doesn't think he's ever driven Gil wild before-- not like this. Not... not beyond his own level of... wildness. Gil usually seems to just... put himself in tune with where Jack is, will get in the mood with a few kisses and a sweet word or two, and having Jack close and wanting him, but this... this is new, and it's intoxicating. 

 

    Gil falls asleep the moment they're finished, is good enough to keep himself awake and involved long enough for Jack to come-- and he's never gotten Gil off so far ahead of himself before, they're usually in sync there, too. 

 

    Jack lets him sleep, dragging a fingertip lightly along the side of his neck after a bit and watching the way he reacts even in slumber. Maybe this time... he won't sleep _quite_ so long?


End file.
